He Yu could hardly believe his eyes. There was no way Tan Xiaoling was merely Body Refining, late stage or not. She’d been pitted against a cultivator who had been at the late stage for a year longer than she had. And she’d crushed him.

Li Heng let out a heavy breath next to him. “I’ve never seen her go all out before,” he admitted. “That was…frightening.”

“If heaven is merciful, I won’t ever have to face her down,” Yan Shirong said. “She’s a monster.”

He Yu couldn’t help but agree. Off to one side, he caught sight of Sha Xiang. For some reason, she appeared practically giddy. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so excited about anything before, or so gleeful. She grinned as though she’d been handed the greatest gift ever, but He Yu couldn’t fathom why. Next to her, Cui Bao laughed, just as exuberant as she was. From where she was seated among the outer sect spectators, Qiao Xia looked even more subdued than when she’d lost to Chen Fei, the uncertainty and fear apparent in her posture.

Whatever the internal dynamics of their group were, they’d likely just shifted in Sha Xiang’s favor. That much was obvious, but it still didn’t explain why she seemed so happy. He Yu decided not to think on it too much. Whatever was going on there didn’t concern him, of that much he could be certain. He needed to focus on the important things in front of him, which meant the tournament.

The next day when they met at the arena, the stands were packed. This was the real show, and even the inner sect disciples were in attendance. The higher-ranked inner disciples were of course interested in who the potential rising stars of the sect would be. No doubt news of Tan Xiaoling’s performance the day prior had spread among them, and they were interested in seeing her talent for themselves.

Those disciples of more middling ranks would be curious to see the disciples who would likely be challenging them for position in the coming year. They perhaps had the most interest in the coming fights, as getting to see the eight finalists would give them valuable insights into those they would likely exchange techniques with soon.

Then the lowest-ranked disciples would want to see who they might lose out to. Anyone who made it to the final or semifinal rounds could easily unseat many of them. They too would want to see the fights, if only to gauge whether or not it would be worth trying to wrestle their ranking back from the usurpers.

Sect Leader Zhou Shanyuan presided over these last rounds with the same detached authority he had in the previous ones. He did, however, reiterate the terms of the contest, and emphasize just how important a good showing was. A new piece of information that He Yu hadn’t previously been aware of was announced—access to cultivation resources within the inner sect was dependent upon rank. If he needed any more motivation to place well, that was it.

The first match called was between Tan Xiaoling and Li Heng. He Yu shot a sympathetic look to the noble, who gave him a resigned shrug in return. A part of He Yu recoiled at the unfairness of it, but he could at least take solace in the fact that his housemate had made it into the inner sect. At the very least, he wouldn’t be leaving the first friend he’d made at the Shrouded Peaks Sect behind.

As the two took the stage, He Yu was a bit surprised to see Tan Xiaoling’s expression—she clearly didn’t like this either. He Yu looked to Zhang Lifen, remembering what she’d said about concessions she’d given, and couldn’t help but wonder. Was this one of them?

As she saluted Li Heng across the arena, Tan Xiaoling said, “I won’t shame you by asking you to surrender.”

Even to He Yu, the implication was clear. She was giving him an out, but doing so in a way that would allow him to keep as much face as possible. She knew she would win, and that was why she’d offered every opponent so far—except Xiao Jun—a chance to surrender. Li Heng’s answer was, of course, unsurprising.

“I thank you for giving me face, Princess Tan,” Li Heng said in that stiffly formal way of his when he’d slipped back into his role as the scion of a margravial house. It was clear that he had no intention of taking her offer.

“Just so,” Tan Xiaoling said as she inclined her head in his direction.

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The gong sounded, and it was clear neither was going to hold back. Li Heng flashed across the arena with the White Hare Dance, closing the distance before Tan Xiaoling could fully form her sandstorm. If his aggression had taken her off guard, she didn’t show it. She adjusted easily enough and met his attack with her sabers. The two of them were briefly occluded by her sandstorm, although the silver flashes of Li Heng’s family art did shine through.

Li Heng had admitted easily enough that he’d never once managed to beat Tan Xiaoling in their regular sparring sessions, noting both her strength and her skill with her paired dao. He Yu couldn’t see any reason why that would change now, given that Tan Xiaoling had advanced a whole stage above him, and had only yesterday crushed Xiao Jun who was at her own level.

He honestly felt bad for Li Heng, to have made it to the quarterfinals only to get knocked out now. On an impulse or an instinct—he couldn’t be certain which—He Yu looked to where Zhang Lifen was seated with the other core disciples. The apologetic smile she returned confirmed his earlier suspicions and told him all he needed to know.

The fight, at least, went on a touch longer than Tan Xiaoling’s previous match with Xiao Jun had. That was likely due to how much time Li Heng had spent fighting her in practice, at least giving him a good sense of her capabilities. Despite that, it was still over quickly, with Tan Xiaoling returning to her seat with a sour expression, despite her victory.

The next match was Yan Shirong versus Cui Bao. This, too, gave He Yu a sinking feeling that Yan Shirong clearly shared. While Yan Shirong had broken through to the Third Realm shortly after their return, he’d still not managed to achieve middle Body Refining. Cui Bao had reached the middle stage just before the tournament, much like Sha Xiang had.

More importantly, Cui Bao was an aggressive fighter who relied on applying constant pressure to his opponents. It was a style that Yan Shirong was poorly suited to deal with given both the nature of his qi and the character of his arts.

The fight went more or less as He Yu had thought it would. Cui Bao immediately went on the attack, using his movement art to get close to Yan Shirong, and never letting the comital scion open the distance back up. To his credit, Yan Shirong performed better than He Yu expected he would, using his shadow tendrils to good effect despite the close quarters. It wasn’t enough though, and in the end, Yan Shirong faded to mist as one of Cui Bao’s fire-edged hatchets passed through the space his head had previously occupied.

Next up was He Yu. His opponent was a disciple named Da Ning. The name rang somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t exactly place where from. Not until the noble spoke, at least.

“Peasant,” he said. “It’s truly a shame that Sect Brother Li lost to that foreigner, Princess Tan. I had hoped to reclaim my honor against him and repay the humiliation he’d dealt me at the end of the grace. I suppose I’ll just have to be satisfied with beating his dog of a manservant.”

It still took a moment for He Yu to place the soft-looking noble in front of him. “Oh,” he said, finally remembering. “You were the one he beat after I had to leave. Did he really embarrass you that badly? I guess he did.”

Da Ning’s face reddened. “I’ll reclaim my honor from your peasant hide,” he said, practically spitting.

He Yu shrugged. “You’re welcome to try,” he said. Da Ning was still low Body Refining. He Yu himself had been steadily increasing his cultivation base and felt as though he was growing close to being able to attempt a breakthrough into the late stage. That would have to wait until after the tournament—especially since he’d be able to avail himself of the more potent medicines available to inner sect disciples—but it gave him a good sense of the difference in their cultivation.

With the sound of the gong, He Yu burst into motion. He had little interest in drawing this out—his sights were set far higher than whatever fight Da Ning could possibly put up. Carried on the winds of the Sky Dragon’s Flight, He Yu used his guandao like a spear. Da Ning tried, and failed, to muster a defense, and was only saved by activating his own movement technique.

Even that wasn’t enough. Between the control granted him by his advancement, the formations in his robe, and his further training with Fang Yingjie prior to the tournament, He Yu twisted as he hurtled past his opponent. The bladed head of his guandao swung around, clashing against Da Ning’s jian. He Yu activated the Bracing Wind, further unbalancing his opponent. From there it was a simple matter to bring the Crashing Wind down upon Da Ning’s helpless form.

When Da Ning vanished, fading to mist beneath He Yu’s guandao, He Yu blinked. The match was over. He’d won, and easily, too. He then felt the weight of so many gathered higher realm cultivators’ attention on him. He turned to the pavilion and offered a salute to the sect leader and elders, keenly aware of just how closely the gathered inner sect disciples were now watching him.

He wondered then if he hadn’t made a mistake by crushing Da Ning so quickly—a part of him worried that he’d just painted a target on his back, recalling what Zhang Lifen had told him about her reputation among the inner sect just before the tournament.

It was only once He Yu had taken his seat, and Leader Zhou began to call out the final match of the day that he realized what facing Da Ning in this round meant.

Worry pierced his heart as Sha Xiang and Chen Fei took their places across from one another.